


give me a place to stand (and i will move the earth).

by flustraaa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Implied Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), M/M, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), Protective Sokka (Avatar), Sad Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Sokka needs a nap, The Gaang Learns How Zuko Got The Scar (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko Needs a Hug, Zuko Needs a Nap, Zuko is a mommas boy, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko is just having a hard time, Zuko's Scar (Avatar), happy ending tho :) as a treat :), it’s kind of unclear, no beta we die like men (jet), oh no beta, or editing, pls let me know what else to tag i still don’t know what I’m doing, pre slash typa beat, protecc him, sokka needs a hug, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: just as a river ebbs and flows, zuko’s found family slowly realises that maybe... just maybe, he was just as much a victim of his father’s hand as they were. literally.(orfour moments that they never thought would happen. especially at a party).
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko, Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko, but only if you squint - Relationship
Comments: 30
Kudos: 674





	give me a place to stand (and i will move the earth).

**Author's Note:**

> ten points to anyone who recognises the title, you’re super cool also hi, i hope you’re doing okay :)

A head of shaggy raven hair sits in front of a body of water; a petite turtle-duck perched delicately in hand and golden head piece sitting carefully at his side. 

Sokka can’t help but notice that the metal sits at his right— and distantly he wonders if Zuko does this intentionally. If he feels, that even after the war has ended, and after Ozai has been imprisoned— that his father still controls part of him. 

_And maybe_ , the young water tribe boy thinks, _the scar represents something deeper. The war that Zuko fights inside of him._

_No_ , he quickly dismisses the thought, _that’s too deep for real life._

He takes a few steps forward, lowering himself down onto the ground to Zuko’s left side— the firebender doesn’t flinch like he would’ve just a few months ago— and Sokka can’t help but wonder if maybe his ally— no, his _friend_ , recognises his presence after all. 

“Hey,” Sokka greets, eyes trained on the small animal in his hands, reaching up to pet soft yellow fur, “do you remember that time I tackled you at the South Pole?” 

Zuko sighs heavily, and Sokka almost feels bad. _Almost_. 

Until a quiet snort fills the silence, and Sokka exchanges a smug grin in return, “yes, Sokka. It’s hard to forget the time you cracked two of my ribs.” 

Sokka coaxes the turtle-duck from Zuko’s palms to his own, and Fire Lord just watches the small creature move freely, quacking happily as it moves. 

“How long did it take Aang and Katara to realise the persimmons and moon peaches were soaked in wine?” The smile on Sokka’s face makes Zuko shake his head in disbelief, shuddering as he speaks again, “remind me to check all of the antique pots and vases tomorrow.” 

“You’re funny when you don’t have a stick up your ass, did you know that?” Sokka doesn’t look away from the turtle-duck, if anything, he focuses on it more. 

It earns a dry look from the former prince, “I always have a stick up my ass. I’m just selectively funny. Actually, I think it’s my special trauma cocktail that gives me funny juice.” 

The retort he receives causes an abrupt laugh to rip from Sokka’s throat, effectively scaring the small animal in his palms away. Zuko sighs, laying on his back as he casts his eyes up at the constellations above him. 

“Do you ever think about the fact that constellations are man-made?” Pools of golden honey settle on Sokka, who too lies on his back, cerulean irises locked on the the bright lights above them, “the stars created us, and we repaid them by marking them with stories of great warriors.” 

“Did you steal that from Aang?” He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his lips. 

“No, my mom,” he murmurs, voice crackling on the edges, “I like to think that she’s up there now, you know? Just... waiting for us to come home.” 

“She is,” Zuko’s voice is undeniably soft, the type that anyone outside of their group rarely receives. 

Sukko squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears to disappear, “Zuko, you don’t have to—“

“Azula always lies,” is what Zuko says instead, now nearly as vulnerable as the boy beside him, “I don’t.” 

A few long moments pass, and soon enough the lights and sounds of the party inside begin to fade and everyone reaches their peaks and dips into valleys of socialising. 

“Come on,” Zuko mumbles, fighting to keep the exhaustion from his voice, “let’s go get some of uncle’s tea. It always makes me feel better.” 

“Already ahead of you, nephew,” Iroh speaks suddenly to his right, “your friends are inside tumbling around— especially Aang, I think he had a few too many cups of saké tonight.” 

“Is he riding his air scooter?” Sokka questions, sitting up to accept a cup of the warm drink from the dragon of the west. The older man only grins to himself, before nodding. “Of course he is— we should go stop him.”

“After tea,” Zuko lightly pats Sokka’s shin, “everything is a bit easier after a cup of tea.” 

And if Zuko sees Iroh’s proud smile, he doesn’t seem to react with more than a small simper in return.

* * *

The next time Sokka finds him, he’s not alone. The group, once comprised enemies, but now of friends can’t seem to peel their eyes away from the Fire Lord.

His hand is clasped fully over the doorknob to a room, moving every few moments as if getting ready to walk into the room but being stopped by a lock or some unknown force.

Zuko, however, stares at the harsh metal knob hidden beneath warm hands none the wiser to their prying gaze; eventually, his eyes come to a close and he allows his breaths to stabilise.

His forehead greets the door like an old friend, a heavy sigh wracking through his body as he tries to convince himself that he isn’t the thing he fears most— that sleeping in the bed that- that vile human had for years won’t turn him into something he’s not.

He jolts when a warm hand clasps his shoulder, and turns to meet not only Sokka’s gaze, but everyone else’s as well.

Toph cackles like a witch at the suddenfear that overtakes the young fire bender.

“Sokka,” he mumbles, bringing a hand up to smooth his hair back, “what the fuck?”

“Sorry, buddy!” Sokka’s voice holds sincerity, but his face shows the amusement he took from scaring the living hell out of him. At once, his eyes lose a bit of light, and he wonders if maybe he’s not as alone as he once thought he was, “are you okay? You’ve kind of been in a trance.”

“Yeah it’s just... his room,” Zuko mumbles, in lieu of an explanation, “I’ve been in the palace for almost a month, and I’ve slept in my office or my old room every night. I’ve never... I’ve never entered his chamber.”

Aang appears suddenly in front of him, a wide beaming grin on his face and just the right amount of clumsiness to tell Zuko the monk is still intoxicated, “Good news! It’s not his anymore!”

In a swift motion, the orange clad tween does a partial loop around Zuko, shoving the door open, not long before he leaps onto the bed. He bounces up and down on the golden and red silk sheets that the bed is dressed in.

Sokka watches as the bender’s body stiffens at the mere sightplaced within his view. His teeth quickly find the soft skin of his inner cheek, and soon he follows his friends in.

They don’t see the room like he does, too distracted by the sheer golden canopy above the bed and the rich wine coloured walls framed with ornate detail.

It becomes incredibly apparent that the servants hadn’t touched the room since it was cleaned on the day of the comet— the last day his father slept in the bed.

He doesn’t process he’s moving until he’s grasping two photos in either hand— the first of Azula, and the second... is of his mother.

He quickly sets the one of his sister facedown on the nightstand as Aang’s incessant bouncing haunts beside him.

“Is that your mom?” When Katara had managed to test her head against his shoulder, he’s unsure. Still, he nods, “she’s beautiful.”

“I know,” he croaks, before he sets down the picture frame on hand— this time, upright.

When he turns, Aang is looking longingly at a the closed night stand sitting parallel. His actions follow the airbender’s gaze, and soon he’s sitting on the side of the bed his mother would have occupied, a golden locket in hand.

When Sokka catches sight of the photo in the locket, he tells everyone he’s heading to fine more saké and spiked persimmons. 

Zuko can’t help but think it’s a questionable decision, but Sokka’s always been good at making plans, right?

* * *

“ _Zuko_?” Aang blurts, as if scared he’ll be asleep but too intoxicated to consider the fact that he’s yelling.

They’re all sprawled out now, Sokka lying beside him inversely, shoes rested on the pillow next to Zuko’s— Suki lies at the bottom of the bed sideways, the rest of them sprawled on mounds of throw pillows and blankets.

A soft hum breeches the surface, and Zuko turns his head to find the avatar staring at him with flushed cheeks, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk. Are you drunk?” 

He blinks once, twice— and Zuko shrugs, “I don’t think so. I’m not sober quite either.” 

“Wonderfully tipsy,” Sokka yawns, tightening his grip on the blanket.

“Oh. Spirits!” Aang sits upright, gaining the attention he lacked, “am _I_ drunk?” 

“Yes,” Katara’s voice is deadpan, through the smile on her lips gives away that she too, has had a few too many drinks as well. 

“Zuko?” Toph asks, and the use of his first name throws him off kilter at first. She continues despite the way his heartbeat quickens, “the nobles were talking about your scar.” 

The room is silent, and Zuko wonders distantly if they can hear the way his heartbeat roars beneath his now flushed skin, “oh.” 

“Where is it?” The question startles Zuko an incredible amount, his chest aches and he sits up enough that his head swirls from the blood rushing around. 

“It’s on my left eye— actually, it goes past it quite a bit,” everyone, intoxicated or not, now looks at him, their eyes soft as they do. He rises to his feet, only to sit across from the earth bender, “I— um, if you want to touch it you can, just— yeah.” 

Toph seems to understand the implied plea to be gentle, and despite how lightly she grazes across the once scarred skin, he flinches, an apology spilling from his lips.

“Don’t apologise,” she states without hesitation, “you’re allowed to feel.” 

And that simple phrase is certainly a sentiment he never would’ve expected from her. 

But when her eyebrows furrow, and she lays her hand flat upon his face— he knows shes piecing it together in her head, “it’s like a handprint.” 

“Yeah,” Zuko manages around a thick swallow, “just like a hand print.” 

“I heard it was a training accident,” Suki now sits, sounding more sober than she ever had before, “what were you supposed to learn?”

“That respect would be taught to me, and that suffering would be my teacher,” Sokka pales considerably, cerulean eyes wide as he continues. “My uncle told me that he couldn’t watch— but Azula was cheering in the crowd.” 

“The crowd?” Aang mumbles, “you train in front of crowds?” 

“No,” Sokka answers before Zuko can figure out how to begin to explain, “you duel in front of crowds.” 

“Iroh did this?” Toph pulls away suddenly, holding her hand like he’d burned her all over again. 

“No! _No_ —“ Zuko suddenly finds his voice, “no, my uncle would never hurt me. He’s all I have.” 

The newly crowned Fire Lord’s voice cracks, and suddenly they’re reminded of how young he is— how young they all are. 

“You have us now too,” Sokka reassured him, eyes downcast, “and we won’t let anything happen to you. You’re not him, Zuko. You never will be.” 

“I know,” he cups his eye with his hand, slowly obscuring it from their prying eyes. After a long moment, he drops the hand. “This scar— it’s a part of me that I’m proud of. I knew what was right, and when I joined you guys... it just... proved that I had good in me all along.”

“When we were in the fire nation, I heard kids talking about the banished prince... did you really try to stop that general from sacrificing the 41st division?” Aang’s eyes illuminate with a sadness Zuko had rarely known. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Ozai thought I was out of line.” 

There’s a solemn pause that reeks of anguish and teen angst— the moment where they allow themselves to consider that at the end of the day, they’re just kids with the weight of the world tested on their shoulders.

“Anyways, I’m allergic to Bumblefly nectar...” he pauses, “Katara, I’m sorry to say it— but that time you made moon-peach cobbler at Ember Island? I let Appa have it.” 

Katara looks offended, Sokka even more so because he didn’t get the piece of extra dessert. 

And despite it all, it’s the young air nomad who breaks the silence, “For as long as you hunted us and as much as you frown... you’re not very good at staying serious, huh?”

Zuko snorts, tossing a couple flecks of quickly fizzling ash at the Avatar, receiving a glare and affronted comment. 

But it’s Toph who murmurs, “that’s why we call him sparky.” 

And to her credit, Zuko grins. 

* * *

When Sokka wakes, everyone is sound asleep around him. His limbs are pleasantly heavy, eyes ready to fall again in the name of slumber— and then he realises that the fire bender who he had kicked in the middle of the night over a nightmare has disappeared.

It takes a long moment for Sokka to realise that the terrace door is open, soft golden curtains swaying with the morning breeze. 

But when he does, he follows it to find the raven haired boy sitting in the sun— his eyes closed, and legs crossed beneath him.

The young water tribe boy has seen many things, but this? This was rare.

And when he thinks about it— he’s not sure he’s ever seen Zuko this calm— maybe not even in sleep. He breaths with the wind, and the fire that rests in front of him— and for a moment, Sokka sees the boy that the nobleman was before his life fell apart around him.

As quietly as he can— which is not at all, he trips over a fire lily plant in the corner until he’s sitting beside Zuko.

If the latter notices, he refuses to give any indication of it.

A few long moments pass, and sleepy eyes fix on the horizon until his newly found friend shifts beside him.

“Fire benders really do rise with the sun,” Zuko hums in soft agreement, “I’m sorry for kicking you in the face. I was fighting rogue mammoth-squids in the Earth King’s Palace.”

A snort rips from his companies throat— it’s perhaps the most ridiculous noise he’s ever heard Zuko emit— and he knows that the latter is thinking the exact same thing. His cheeks are flushed and his hand is slapped to his mouth in embarrassment.

It takes everything in Sokka to not drag him to the Spirit world and back for the cacophony he’d been forced to experience right in that moment.

Soon enough, the newly crowned fire lord calms down— resting his head against the wall behind and just as his eyes close he mumbles, “I think it makes you look neat.”

Zuko pauses, “the scar?”

“Yeah,” Sokka breathes, “the scar. It looks neat. You look like a badass.” 

“Badass like dropping to my knees and begging for forgiveness?” His voice is dry, and his eyes mist over in a way Sokka hates to see on him.

“Badass like a thirteen year old trying to save the 41st division,” Sokka answers, and he can feel the golden gaze that locks onto the side of his face, “badass like someone who came out of an impossible mission with more honour than the people who sent him on it could ever have.”

“We don’t use the _h-word_ here,” Zuko quips dryly, eyes focusing back on the horizon.

Sokka wonders if he doesn’t want him to see the gratefulness written on his face— because the more he gets to know Zuko, the more he realises that the guy wears his heart on his sleeve.

“We do now,” Sokka breathes, “because you have more than anyone crowned before you.”

“Sokka?” Zuko queries after a moment of hesitation, “I’m sorry I sent combustion man after you guys. It would’ve sucked if he blew you up.” 

When he glances at his buddy, there’s a quiet smile on his face, “it’s okay. I’m sorry I made you go in the freezer— it would’ve sucked if you froze to death.”

“Touché, boomerang boy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> many thoughts. head full. let me know what you think! i kinda went from writing oc fics based off of classical western poetry and prose to trying to get down personalities that are very different than ones ive ever written for so thank u for being patient while i try to get my bearings :)) pls be kind tho.


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